Cuck Therapy Pt. 01

I looked at her - her face was not unsympathetic.

I shrugged. "And then I could hear them," I said, as evenly as I could.

"The sounds of lovemaking, you mean?"

"I mean the sounds of fucking. I mean the sounds of another man fucking my wife."

Because I didn't want her to rebuke my 'reproachful tone,' I didn't say: the sounds of my wife enjoying a good fuck, which is what I heard.

I struggled to maintain my composure.

Brunder nodded. "That must have been a hard shock." I nodded. "What did you do?"

I paused. "I left. What was I going to do? Knock on the door? Fuck it. Let them have each other, I figured."

Brunder studied me.

"Is that all? Nothing else?"

I sighed.

"I made a recording. A sound recording. On my phone. I figured it might help in a divorce. Turns out that shit doesn't matter much these days."

Brunder nodded.

"Do you still have it?"

I felt Lisa's eyes on me.

"Yes."

Brunder looked at Lisa. "Have you heard it?" she asked.

Lisa shook her head, her eyes wide.

Brunder looked back at me.

"You have it on you?"

I nodded. Brunder's eyes stayed on me.

"You're kidding," I said.

"We need to put everything on the table," she said. "Lisa needs to know the burden you carry."

I paused a long time.

"Fine," I said, fishing it out of my pocket. I unlocked it and navigated to the file. I looked at Lisa, who looked mortified. I cranked the sound and hit play.

Immediately the faint, but distinct, sounds of a woman getting magnificently fucked blurted obscenely out of the tiny speakers. Lisa's high-pitched, uninhibited screams. Something unintelligible, which my jealous mind fills in as "fuck me harder" and then the sounds of the bedframe slamming rhythmically against the wall. I felt my treasonous erection grow as I watched Brunder's reaction (Was she enjoying this? Did I detect the signs of arousal in her face? Was she getting wet?), and I crossed my legs to conceal it.

Beside me, Lisa's face was in her hands. "Stop it," she pleaded.

I looked at Brunder. She nodded and I hit pause.

After a moment, she asked, "How long is it?"

"38 minutes."

"All...." she trailed off.

I nodded.

I couldn't put the phone back in my jeans' pocket without revealing my erection, so I put it on the arm of the chair.

"You stayed and listened until they were done?"

"I stayed and made evidence until they were done, yes. And then I went home," I said.

We were all quiet a while. Brunder sat back, seeming to give us time to recover, giving each of us a occasional, studious glances. She looked deep in thought.

"How many times have you listened to that recording?" Brunder asked me finally.

"What?"

"Have you listened to it often?"

"No," I replied indignantly. "What would be the fucking point of that? I know what's on it. After I made it, I checked to see how clearly it recorded, and other than just playing it now, that's it."

It was a lie, but I couldn't see how admitting it would serve any purpose. This recording should be Lisa's humiliation, not mine. But Brunder's cool blue eyes seemed to look right through me.

"Have you ever masturbated while listening to it?"

"What?! No," I said firmly. I felt my cheeks burn, and raised my glass of water to my face in a vain attempt to conceal it. I was angry at my shame. So what if I did jerk off to it a few times? Truth was, I could give you a director's commentary on that recording. None of the words spoken or screamed were intelligible, but I could tell well enough when she had her orgasms. The first time was early, minute 6, but there were more intense ones on minutes 15, 21, and especially 36, the last couple accompanied by some really furious percussion from the bed frame slamming against the wall as the fucker slammed his meat hard into my wife, really making her squeal. Typically I skipped ahead to one of these when I felt close to cumming, so that I could get off to sound of the bitch's lewd betrayal in full heat. It was like a hate-fuck, but solo. We had some real hate-fucks too - Lisa and I. She was so repentant and afraid of me leaving once I found out that she'd let me fuck her anytime I wanted. Finally. And that recording would be playing in my head from memory while we did it, whether I wanted it or not. I couldn't hear him on the recording, but I saw him fucking her as I watched myself slam my own cock into her as hard as I could - in my mind, it wasn't my own cock but his she was getting off on. To the degree that I could get her off. That's what really hurt. I never could make her squeal like on that fucking recording. I couldn't get it out of my head. But I wasn't telling her that. Or Brunder.

"No," I repeated.

Brunder studied me, but didn't challenge me further.

"What did you do after you were done... making the evidence?" she asked.

I ignored the slight mockery. I figured it was tit-for-tat for me telling the white lie, and anyway I wanted to move on.

"I confronted her when she got home. She lied, denying it until she knew for sure she was busted and then she came clean, and begged forgiveness. Well, not totally clean - she bullshitted me about how many times they fucked, as we now know."

"Easy," Brunder said, though compassionately. "You really must do your best to end the reproaches, John. I know it's hard. You'd likely have done the same."

"I would never have cheated in the first place," I countered.

"You've never?" she asked.

I shook my head and she seemed to accept this. It was the truth.

"Okay," she said, sitting up straight, looking now at Lisa. "You alright?" Lisa wiped at her eyes, nodding. "We really are making excellent progress, even if it doesn't feel like it. Healing hurts. Okay?"

She waited for Lisa to nod. She did.

"Lisa, I want you to tell the story of how all this began."

Lisa sighed heavily and nodded again.

"How much does John know?"

"Everything," Lisa said. "[i]Now[/i]," she qualified, meaning, presumably, now that I knew it was nearly 20 times and not 3 or 4. "It was a man I work with sometimes. Mark. He's a client of our office. I'm an accountant, and my work sometimes involves collaborating with him on an account. We went out for drinks on night with some co-workers and he gave me a lift home. We kissed, but didn't have sex. Not then. Later it escalated and we... we'd sometimes go to his house. It's.... I'm not like that. I've been going through a rough patch - my mother died and... I'm just... I become untethered, crazy."

"Okay," Brunder said, leaning back in her chair. "Let's hear the story of the affair and how it began."

Lisa looked confused. "That's it."

Brunder smiled sympathetically.

"Okay. Lisa, you said John knows everything?" Lisa nodded. Brunder turned to me. "John, do you feel you know everything?"

I shook my head. What I didn't know seemed like an abyss that I filled with jealous fantasies.

Lisa was shaking her head firmly. "No," she said. "That's it. I've told everything."

Brunder leaned forward in her chair and put her arms on her desk. She looked at Lisa, and then at me.

"John," she said. "Describe for me, in as much detail as you can, any one of Lisa's sexual encounters with this man."

I looked at Lisa, whose eyes had gone wide again.

I shrugged.

"You can't? She hasn't told you much detail, has she?"

I shook my head.

"If I asked you to describe how you've pictured them together, the things they've done, the different positions you imagine they've fucked in, the things you imagine he's done to her and her to him, how long would that take?"

I swallowed hard. "It would take a while," I allowed. "I don't think it's unusual for a man to think the worst when wondering about these things. And to think about it a lot."

Another sympathetic smile from Brunder. "That's very true."

She leaned back in her chair again. "The worst and a lot of it." She looked at Lisa. "That's what a man fills in when he doesn't know. That's a thing between you now, in your marriage. Would you like for John to be able to stop doing that? To stop torturing himself?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes, of course."

"It doesn't work to not discuss it. And it's not enough to tell him what you didn't do. There's always lots more he'll fill in, torturing himself with that. The only way to stop that is to tell him, in complete detail, what you and Mark did together. All of it. Everything you did in bed, or elsewhere, and how it made you feel. All of it. It's the only way to heal. Can you manage? Both of you?"

She looked at us each in turn.

Lisa waited for my response. I nodded, drawing my crossed leg up closer, trying to make sure my impossibly throbbing erection was concealed. Why was I so fucking hard?

Lisa swallowed hard, studying me, and then nodded to Brunder.

Brunder smiled.

"Then let's begin."